The Down Low
There is a mess inside the city
An ugly place adrift from hands...
An appellation sprayed in paint describes
It's termination;
Right here infected methods stand
Long after the deaths, and endless
Heart aches...
The screams of protest in the night...
The people walk with shoulders hunched,
Their eyes pad-locked
To their feet...
No sympathy regards their plight...
There could be Wars;
They'll never see them...
Another campaign
Came and went...
Who's been elected,
And does it matter?...
The coffers empty...
Energies spent...
Where are the ones who could take notice?...
Why are these tarnished streets so stained?...
The men walk dead...Eyes grey as gravestones...
Young boys get high to feel no pain...
In each gas station you'll see a crack pipe...
Their burning candles at both ends...
Where can a precious soul find work in waste?...
New seeds are scattered as gales descend...
The women pregnant with more failures
Are part and parcel of this scheme
While realtors sell off the world in pieces...
The average Joe dry humps his dreams;
Remaining blind to how each mounting vice
Works like rat poison to the poor...
In coffeeshops I overhear Vampires
Massage their egos, and employ more rich...
Exploiting charities; they funnel smuggled funds
Like cocaine up their nose
Without a flinch for what their doing...
Their just high rollers on a wave!...
They use hype words like "Aid"; "Relief"
So they can scalp another day,
And sleep right through another evening...
While the cockroaches plague the lives
Of all these phantoms who will not be counted...
Not fit to tailor or survive...
There is a mess inside the city
An ugly place adrift from hands...
An appellation sprayed in paint describes
It's termination;
Right here infected methods stand
Long after the deaths, and endless
Heart aches...
The screams of protest in the night...
The people walk with shoulders hunched,
Their eyes pad-locked
To their feet...
No sympathy regards their plight...
11/19/23
Bunny Villaire
Edit #2